"MARK! Mark, we have to got to the emergency room! Mark!"
I open my eyes and sit up. The couch isn't that comfortable, but we don't have that much money to buy a bed, even with the little Roger action figures he insisted on selling.
"Roger, please remember that a hang-nail does not need a trip to the E.R.," I mumble and get off the couch to see Roger by the kitchen knives, holding his hand and wincing in pain. Oh, crap.
"Mark...." Roger whimpers and covers his hand with a rag and runs over. My first thought: Roger really sliced his finger. This could be nasty.
"We'll leave now!" I say and yank on my coat. Roger struggles to put his on.
"Do you have the keys?" Roger moans, still clutching the rag against his hand.
"Roger, we don't have a car. We have a bike," I remind. "You'll have to ride on the handlebars. Is that okay, Roger?" I ask. Roger nods. We both rush out of the door, dragging my bike behind us.
Outside of the apartments it's freezing. The middle of April and it's freezing. My Lord. I steal look at Roger's hand and notice that there isn't any blood on the rag. Maybe he's got some good pressure on it. The God of Rock does squeeze pretty hard. I've seen him and Mimi.
"Mark, can we hurry? I'm going to go cold from bloodlost!" Roger complains. He hops carefully onto my handlebars and holds on to them with his good hand. I'm starting to wonder what exactly is wrong with him.
"Yeah, sure, Roger," I say and kick up the kickstand and away we go!
Pedaling with Roger on my handlebars is a lot harder than just myself, or even when Maureen used to ride on them when we would go for coffee. Maureen...
Anyway, Roger's bigger than me, heavier, and doesn't make riding a bike any easier. Not to mention his moans of pain and screams when we go over a bump. My goodness, Roger, shut up.
"BE CAREFUL!" Roger shrieks as I hit a speed bump. I shake my head. Why didn't I just call an ambulance? Then I wouldn't be freezing without my gloves and I wouldn't have to listen to Roger's shrieks of terror everytime the bike bumps a little. Then again, it's only a five minute bike ride to the hospital. I take a deep breath and pedal a little faster. Roger's grip tightens on the handlebars.
"So, Roger, what exactly happened?" I ask casually. Roger sniffles.
"I was going through the phone book," he begins. "And the paper was so sharp."
I stop the bike.
"YOU GOT A PAPERCUT?" I shout. Roger nods meekly.
"It's the deepest in the history of deep!" he cries. "I have to go to the E.R.!"
"No, Roger! You stick a band-aid on it and call it a day!" I shout.
"NO! DRIVE! WE HAVE TO GO! I'M STARTING TO GET FAINT!" Roger cries. "THE LIGHT! I SEE IT! OH, HELLO, GRANDMA BETTY! I'M COMING, GRANDMA!" People are starting to stare.
"ROGER! SHUT UP!"
"THE DARKNESS IS SURROUNDING ME! OH, GLORY! THE VIRUS HAS TAKEN HOLD!"
"ROGER! IF I TAKE YOU TO THE ER WILL YOU SHUT UP!?" I ask. Roger stops shouting and nods.
"Yes."
"Fine..."
There are way more needy people at the E.R. than Roger, the God of Whimps. Badass, my ass. And these papers the 'doctor' chick at the reception center gave us are just insane. All this stupid paperwork so this whimp can get a band-aid for his papercut. Roger's whimpering beside me.
"Gosh, what do you think they're gonna do, Mark?" he asks he quietly asks Mark with wide eyes, looking scared for his life
"Gosh," I shake my head and my eyes widen. "They'll probably have to amputate," I told him seriously. Mwahahaha, I'm so evil!
Roger's eyes widen and he clutches his finger. I snicker and go back to the cruel paperwork. You know what? I don't even think that chick was a doctor. She looked like a nineteen-year-old girl that just needed a little pocket money for new shoes and crack that liked to cause people pain. I hate paperwork.
"Roger, what's your social security number?" I ask. Roger hits my arm with his good hand.
"You can't ask me that! You could use my good credit against me! I'm a 62!" Roger shouts.
"You can't be a 62 and you don't have good credit. Don't you remember the opening song of Rent? 'We're not gonna pay last year's rent'? Our credit is horrible," I explain. Roger huffs.
"Fine, but if you steal my identity, Mark, I'll make your girlfriend leave you for a chick," Roger grumbles and wags his good finger at me.
"That already happened."
"Oh, yeah..."
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
"Roger Davis?" the imbucile girl who gave us the papers called out while popping her gum.
"I'm coming!" Roger says as he shakily stands up.
"Roger," I say with a sigh. "It's a paper cut. You're not going to die."
"You're right...you're right...I won't die...I won't die..." He kept muttering to himself as he followed the girl down the hall. I close my eyes and try to catch up on that nap I was working on at home before Roger had interrupted me.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" A blood-curling scream at a pitch so high that it would make Kristen Chenoweth proud came from down the hall. It woke me up and I jumped to my feet as the girl came out of the room pointing at me.
"You! Get you ass in there and calm down your friend!" I walked down the hall and knocked on the door, afraid of what I might see. I open the door and...
"Roger? What are you doing on the floor?" Roger-the-rock-god-Davis was laying in the corner of the room in the fetal position.
"There's a-a-a-"
"Just spit it out!" I was getting impatient as this went on, for goodness sake he had to go to the ER for a papercut and now, he had gone completely berserk!
"A SPIDER!!!" Roger looked terrified as his eyes bulged and he looked at me. He pointed to the opposite corner of the room and shivered.
"A spider." The imbucile.
"Mmm-hmmm..." Roger nodded while he started sucking his thumb.
"A spider?"
Roger nodded and pointed again. I sighed. Lord help us all...I walk over to the corner just as Roger says, "Don't let it eat you!" I turn and nod at him. This is the guy women fall over? What is the world coming to?
I squish the spider in one quick stomp and Roger lets out a huge breath as he jumps up and hugs me as tightly as he can with one arm. "My hero!"
"Roger, get off of me."
"Okay."
"Now, Roger," I begin. "I'm going to leave and send the doctor in okay?"
"NO!" Roger panics. Oh goodness. "I'm scared! Don't leave me alone!"
"Fine, Roger. I'll stay. Just go sit down on the hospital bed."
Roger gasps! "Are you going to try and rape me now that I'm handicapped?!"
"No, Roger! That's where the patient is supposed to sit. All the good little rock stars sit there!"
"Ok..." Roger says hesitantly. "Stealing my identity and now this..." he mutters as he walks to the bed.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
"Okay, Roger! You're good to go!" The doctor says as he puts a bandaid that says 'little rock star' on Roger's middle finger.
"What? I'm okay now? You don't have to amputate it?!" Roger asks overjoyed. I sit in the chair on the other side of the room with a smirk on my face. mwahahaha...
"Nope! You're okay to go home now!"
"Thank you doctor! Thank you!" Roger hugs the doctor tightly and I roll my eyes.
The doctor asks me, "Is he okay?"
"Blood loss makes him emotional," I say as-a-matter-of-fact.
Realizing I'm still in the room he says, "Hey, Mark! Look at my cool rock star band-aid!" He flips me off as I sigh and put my head in my hands. The doctor simply raises an eyebrow before Roger turns back to him.
"Can I go home now?"
"Yes, its requested actually," He says with an exhausted look on his face. He thinks this sucks for him. Wimp, I have to live with the guy...
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*
"Hey, Mark?" Roger asks as we ride home, him once again on my handlebars.
"Yes, Roger?
"Thank you for taking me to the Emergency Room."
"Your welcome Roger."
"Hey Mark?"
"Yes Roger?"
"I love you."
"That's weird Roger."
"..."
"But I love you too."
"Yay!"
*sigh*